


Risk

by blothullr (hyperionne)



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Bangalore (Mentioned), Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Discussions of Temporary Death, Injury, Lifeline (Mentioned) - Freeform, NB/M relationship, Other, Pre-Relationship, Risk of Identity Reveal, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 06:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30051045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperionne/pseuds/blothullr
Summary: Bloodhound's mask is damaged in a game, and the hunter becomes the hunted.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	Risk

In the gloom of the swamplands, Bloodhound’s breath became laboured and shuddering. 

The games were always long and arduous, but this match especially so. Their teammates had fallen early on in the games, and whilst they’d recovered one of their banners, their chances of successfully delivering it to a respawn beacon were slim to none. Their jumpmaster was careless, and landed them in a nasty situation—a hotspot of violence, through a portal which made Bloodhound feel nauseous, right into the crosshair of three brawling squads—they were lucky to make it out of the Singh Labs alive. 

From there, they struggled over to the swamplands, neglecting the Allfather’s sight for fear of signalling their own location. They’d managed to swipe a Wingman from a deathbox just outside the labs, but had yet to come across any medical supplies or shields. 

A warning shot caught them right in the eye, and blasted half of their mask to pieces. They ran for the lowlands clutching their bleeding eye. 

No medical supplies or specialised loot or placement in the Apex Games would ever be worth exposing their identity, so they booked it to the most run down, unassuming area they could think of. 

They were alone, for the most part, left to their own devices to think of how best to strategise their exit. Throwing themself out of bounds wasn’t an option—they’d be found before they could get close enough to sealevel—and suicide was strictly prohibited by the Gamemakers. They’d strip them of their title, their Legend status, or worse—they simply wouldn’t revive them at all, post-match. The footsteps of meandering squads were distant enough to keep Bloodhound rooted in place, but close enough to set them on edge. 

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the Allfather decided that Bloodhound needed to be punished. They’d clearly done something to displease the Gods. 

The door to their hut swung open so violently it creaked unhappily on its hinges, and in sauntered Mirage, looking as cocky as ever. He spun his pistol on his finger, grinning like a madman. Bloodhound only sighed and ducked their head, eager to hide their shattered mask. 

They’d had a few run-ins with Mirage before. He was a relatively new contender in the games, but a capable one. Bloodhound had managed to kill him thrice before—it was only a matter of time before the tables turned. 

“Well, well, well—never thought I’d see the day,” Mirage grinned, all teeth, in a way that made Bloodhound want to throw caution to the wind and beat him down with their fists, there and then on the grubby floorboards. “Looks like the hunter had become the _hunted_ — don’t worry, sweetheart—it’s just me. The rest of the squad said I could have ya to myself.” 

“Then be done with it.” Bloodhound wheezed through their respirator, clutching their bloodied side. “Pageantry aside, there is no glory in an easy kill, and there are no cameras here, Mirage.” 

“Yeah, yeah. What is it you said last time, before you killed me?” Mirage brushed aside their misery, taunting like he was still on the cameras. He stepped closer, boots heavy against the rotting floor, until he loomed over Bloodhound’s crumpled form. 

And then he went too far. 

He reached for Bloodhound’s mouthpiece, fingers slipping underneath their jaw in an attempt to drag their unfocused gaze to his. _“Never forget the eyes of_ — oh.” He let go immediately, staggering back as if he’d been burnt. “Y-Your mask.” He uttered dumbly. “Cracked on one side.” 

Before he could scramble away, Bloodhound grabbed his wrist and squeezed, pulling him back down. “Get it over with,” they hissed, still clutching their eye with their other hand. “Just because you are a legend now does not mean you get to demean me. I have always been respectful in dispatching you. Do not compromise my identity— _takk_ — I beg of you—”

“Whoa, whoa—okay, so maybe I got a bit carried away there—” Mirage immediately softened, collapsing to his knees to better speak on Bloodhound’s level. “I just got—I-I don’t know? Excited? You’ve killed me so many times, you know, and you were ki-kinda’ my hero before I joined these games? I mean, the almighty _Blόðundr-but-you-can-call-me-Bloodhound?_ Sorry, I just got a bit—lost in the moment there—I’m not actually a sadist, or anything, I-I mean, not any more than anyone else in these games, I guess—”

“I do not blame you, Mirage,” Bloodhound rasped, letting go of his arm to reapply pressure to their wound. “I do not wish to be left here alive, is all. Please do not rob me of my dignity. Should somebody else find me here—”

“No, no—I got you, buddy.” Mirage waved them off, before he set to work untangling his unruly hair from his goggles, and unravelling his scarf. 

_“Hvað—”_

“Just relax, I didn’t see anything beside the cracks in your lenses, don’t worry about it.” Mirage then handed Bloodhound the goggles, and wound his scarf around their neck, before carefully wrapping it over the cracks and breakages in their mask. He then fumbled around with his pockets before pulling out two syringes. “Now, this ain’t enough to make a full recovery—you’re on your own there, bud—but it doesn’t feel good leaving someone in your position to choose between the games and exposing themselves. Not a word of this to anyone, you get me? There are no cameras around, no drones—”

“Why bother,” Bloodhound hissed, bracing themself as Mirage unceremoniously stabbed the syringe through their overcoat and into their shoulder. “We are enemies in this ring—we do not know each other outside of it—” 

“How about, to make it even, you let me take you out for a drink after this match?” Mirage proposed, contorting his face into what Bloodhound supposed was his best attempt at a smoulder. “No ulterior motives, or nothin’. Just you, me, some good drinks, and good conversation. I’ve been looking to introduce myself for a while, and—w-well, perhaps I could get a do-over on the whole intama-intima- _intimadation_ thing.” 

The medicine coursed through their system, stitching up their wounds swiftly. They picked themself up off the floor, leaning more solidly against the wall. “You should have killed me.” They frowned behind their mask, before opening the chamber to their Wingman and counting the bullets. “Because now it will be four to me, zero to you, _féragi.”_

“Yeah, yeah—I’m gonna bounce—” Mirage rolled his eyes, but ultimately did nothing to hide his growing grin. “So—dinner, this evening? Or whenever the match ends, I suppose?”

“ _Dinner?_ ” Bloodhound practically squawked, their heavily-accented voice coming out high and surprised through their respirator. “I was propositioned _drinks_ , not _dinner—”_ But Mirage was already backing his way out of the door. Over his earpiece, Bloodhound could faintly make out Bangalore barking orders at the trickster. 

“See you there, Hound— always a pleasure.” He winked, and tossed out a salute that was suspiciously familiar to one of Bloodhound’s own—a pose they could be seen maintaining in many promotional shots—and Bloodhound, bewildered and running high on adrenaline, slumped back down in the corner. 

_Yes,_ the Allfather was incredibly displeased with them. Displeased indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I am new to Apex and this is my first attempt at writing for it. Bloodhound has me feeling things, as they are one of the first non-binary reps I've come across in popular media and I am emotional as a fellow they/them
> 
> categorised as other bc there's no NB/M category


End file.
